At the word 'daunting', the Hollow Knight touched the crack in its mask. The sun shone out of my eyes, it considered writing, but it forced its hand to stay. It was not Lyng's business to know of its failure. Nor was it his burden.

Besides, there was history here. Something to learn. Something to absorb. The Hollow Knight could be good at that, and so it sat, listening curiously, its hands coming back to settle around the warm mug of tea Lyng had offered it.

It nodded to show that it was listening.